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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435700">The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenEndedDoor/pseuds/OpenEndedDoor'>OpenEndedDoor</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love In Perspective [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fall Out Boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Writing &amp; Publishing, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pete is a good boyfriend, Valentine's Day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:35:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenEndedDoor/pseuds/OpenEndedDoor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick faces losing his anonymity. Pete helps him through it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Love In Perspective [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Be My Peterick Valentine 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A sequel to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202388">Write Me Off</a> that can be read as a standalone. Thanks to Snitches for looking over this!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Hey, guys. Soul Punk’s boyfriend here. You might know me from the comments section as insincerehomeboy.</p>
  <p>SP’s being kind enough to let me take over his blog this week — or, as he puts it, let me tarnish his hard-earned reputation. I can’t overstate how difficult this is for him. He can’t even be in the same room with me as I’m writing this. The level at which he’s trying to pretend it’s not even happening is impressive. I told him I was going to write the first blog post and he said, “You have a blog? Judging from your texts I didn’t think you knew how to write.” Which is beyond insulting because I actually write for a living.</p>
  <p>Anyway, I know you’re used to reading extra-long, pretentious posts full of words like “derivative” (all music is derivative!) and “soft-focus” (that’s a photography term, dude, it has nothing to do with music) and “atavism” (fucking what?). But we’re keeping it simple this week. Short and sweet. For Valentine’s Day, my gift to you lovely SP readers is my five favorite anti-love songs — five songs about how much love sucks. See, SP hates holidays. He’s a veritable party pooper. And since I basically forced him to get embarrassingly mushy for Christmas, I’m making it up to him by avoiding the subject of romance altogether and refusing to get into the spirit of Valentine’s.</p>
  <p>But! Because I have full access to his blog and he’s not here right now supervising me (stupid decision on his part), I’m going to take this opportunity to say that, hypothetically, if I were instead choosing five Valentine’s Day songs that best express my love for him, the first song on the list would be “Adore” by Prince.</p>
  <p>SP and I kind of had a love-at-first-sight thing going on. I mean, we’ve had to work at shit. No relationship comes easy. But the night I met him, I laid down some serious moves and he couldn’t resist. He went home with me, and the rest is history.</p>
  <p>Sorry, babe, but this is your fault for putting all of your trust in me.</p>
  <p>Getting back on track, though, your first anti-love song is Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” Ian Curtis cheated on his wife while touring and wrote this song out of guilt, twisting Captain &amp; Tennille’s sentiment that “Love Will Keep Us Together” into something more depressing and new wavey. Sadly, Curtis committed suicide two months after recording it, so it’s become known as something of a farewell message delivered in Curtis’s deep monotone vocal style. It has an upbeat, dancey music bed that belies its heavy lyrical content. The contrast almost makes it feel like Curtis had come to terms with the fact that love will tear us apart, but maybe the “again” that follows is meant to imply that we’ll keep trying anyway.</p>
  <p>SP woke me up in the middle of the night last week singing and playing this on his acoustic in his underwear, so it was fresh on my mind.</p>
  <p><b>Edit by Soul Punk:</b> Out of the kindness of my heart, I’m keeping this up exactly as he wrote it, but I would like for it to go on record that insincerehomeboy was anything but smooth when we met. He literally said the words, “Do you come here often?” </p>
  <p>And okay, yes, I was playing “Love Will Tear Us Apart” in my underwear, but I didn’t wake him up. He operates at the energy level of a Jack Russell Terrier. I was up because he was up.</p>
  <p>I’m also going to excuse the term “new wavey” while noting that I would never, under any circumstances use it, and I’m disappointed that it will forever mar my blog.</p>
  <p>That being said, “Adore” by Prince is a sweet choice and also happens to be one of my favorite songs. I think he knows that. He’s kind of hard to resist sometimes, it’s true.</p>
  <p>But no more sappy love songs! That wasn’t the agreement!</p>
  <p>
    <em> Posted by Soul Punk on February 7, 2011 </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><hr/><p>Pete watches Patrick scrub a dish before placing it in the dishwasher. His forehead is wrinkled with a level of concentration that seems more suitable for solving a complex math problem than washing dishes, so Pete knows he’s thinking intently about something. And because Pete is Pete, his curiosity and concern overwhelm him, and he asks, “Whatcha thinkin’ about, gorgeous?”</p><p>Patrick blinks as though he’s clearing out his thoughts and then looks at Pete. “I got invited to appear on a documentary about the Chicago music scene.”</p><p>“What?” Pete throws the dish towel he’s using to wipe the counter at Patrick’s head, and Patrick catches it before it hits him. “That’s great! You’re doing it, right? Please say you’re doing it.”</p><p>“I want to.” Patrick hesitates. He absentmindedly places his sponge on the counter and starts scrubbing a dish with the towel. “But I would have to show my face, and people would know who’s behind the blog. I’d lose my anonymity.”</p><p>“Okay,” Pete says slowly. “So?”</p><p>“So that’s terrifying.”</p><p>“I guess, but do you really <em> need </em>anonymity at this point? I mean, you’ve built up a loyal fanbase who would follow you to the ends of the earth. I’m sure they’d be happy to finally know what you look like — and what you sound like.”</p><p>“What I sound like?”</p><p>“You could play and sing for them, like you do for me sometimes.” Pete gives Patrick a huge grin.</p><p>“Okay, wait. How did this go from me appearing on a documentary to me <em> singing </em>for people?”</p><p>“You have an amazing voice, babe. The world needs to hear it.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna do this if it means it’s the beginning of me, like, <em> performing </em>for people. I don’t know if I can do that. You’re the hot, charismatic one. I’m just a lazy asshole.”</p><p>“You’re <em> my </em>lazy asshole.” Pete walks over to Patrick and puts his arms around his waist. He kisses him on the forehead and then says, softly, “But you’re hot and charismatic, too, you just don’t realize it.”</p><p>Patrick looks at Pete, his eyes wide. “I don’t know if I can do this, Pete.”</p><p>“You can, babe, I promise. Look at it this way. The two things you never shut up about are music and Chicago, and now some people want to pay you to talk about both of those things, like, at length. I don’t know how you can live with yourself if you pass up that opportunity.”</p><p>Patrick squirms in Pete’s arms. “Why are you pushing this? What’s in it for you?”</p><p>“What’s in it for me is seeing my amazing boyfriend blossom like a flower —” </p><p>“Please stop.” </p><p>Pete laughs. “There’s nothing in it for me. I just think the world should see the incredible person I get to be with every day. You have a lot of great things to say, so why limit yourself to one medium?” Pete gasps. “You could video blog! You could <em> vlog, </em>Patrick.”</p><p>Patrick scrunches his nose. “But I don’t want to take the focus off of the music and put it on me instead. I’m just some guy — an awkward, weird guy.”</p><p>“People will still care about the music. That’s the purpose behind the blog, and that’s not going to change, but you don’t have to be so self-effacing about what you do. It’s like you want to put yourself out there but hold yourself back at the same time. Those are <em> your </em> words on the blog, your thoughts, and they’re unfailingly brilliant, so why not show everyone who’s behind them?”</p><p>Patrick huffs, like he wants to protest but can’t think of anything to say, so Pete takes the opportunity to keep barreling on with this impromptu motivational speech that his boyfriend sorely needs. “You have so many things in here” — Pete places his fingertips on Patrick’s head at his temple — “and here” — he moves his hand down to press it against Patrick’s chest — “that the world would be lucky to see and hear and know. You have the ability to share those things, and I think you should embrace that. Not many people get that kind of opportunity.”</p><p>Patrick picks at a loose thread on Pete’s sweater. His eyes are turned downward, his eyelashes fanned out against his pale cheeks. Pete would never let Patrick know it, but he’s internally fighting a small part of his brain that wants to hold Patrick close to his chest and keep him all to himself. He feels privileged to know Patrick like this — to see all of his little details that no one else gets to witness. But he knows that’s a selfish thought, and he also knows that, in truth, he wouldn’t be sharing all of Patrick with the world. </p><p>No one else gets to see him up close like this, beautiful and vulnerable. No one else gets to know how Patrick always rests his ankle on top of Pete’s while they sleep, even after they’ve stopped cuddling for the night. No one else gets to hear the stupid songs he makes up about Pete or the way he laughs when Pete makes up stupid poems about him in return. No one else gets to see Patrick show up at Pete’s office with lunch and coffee on a busy day, making sure he slows down a bit and refuels. No one else gets to see the myriad traits that make up this unique person who Pete gets to hold this closely in <em> their </em> kitchen, in their home, in this new but rich life that they’ve built together.</p><p>Patrick’s eyes flick up to Pete’s. “Will you do it with me?”</p><p>“What, go on the documentary with you?”</p><p>Patrick shrugs. “If they want you to, sure. But I meant, like, maybe we could do a video together first. Like, revealing who we are.” </p><p>Pete's face lights up. "A vlog?"</p><p>"Yes, a vlog." Patrick rolls his eyes.</p><p>“You really want me to?”</p><p>“I do. You're the other half of my blog, Pete. You're <em> my </em> other half<em>. </em>They'll want to see you, too.”</p><p>“I <em> am </em> pretty entertaining.” Pete smiles. “Hey, you think they’d want to see my Transformers collection?”</p><p>Patrick laughs. “Oh, God. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”</p><p>Pete brushes a piece of Patrick’s hair back from his eyes. “Of course I’ll do it with you, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”</p><p>Patrick nods fervently. “I don’t want to do this alone. You’ve been there since the beginning, and Soul Punk wouldn’t exist as it is without you. You’re as much a part of it as I am. You’ve kept me motivated when I felt like giving up. I want to do this with you.”</p><p>Pete kisses Patrick then, holding his chin in his hand. “We’ll have fun with it,” he says when he comes back up for air. “Just a casual little hello, and then we’ll take it from there.”</p><p>“It’s scary,” Patrick says, softly.</p><p>“It’s exciting,” Pete counters.</p><p>“It will change things.”</p><p>“For the better.”</p><p>“I’m going to be <em> seen.” </em></p><p>“Well,” Pete smirks. “Not <em> all </em>of you.” He gets his hands on Patrick’s waist and lifts him up onto the counter, eliciting a yelp from Patrick that causes Pete’s cock to strain against his jeans. It’s the effect of Patrick’s voice — every noise he makes goes straight to Pete’s dick. </p><p>Pete smiles against Patrick’s mouth when he leans in to kiss him, and he feels Patrick’s body relax as he deepens the kiss, his arms around Pete’s neck.</p><p>Pete trails his hands up Patrick’s thighs and pulls his hips forward roughly. “I don’t think,” Pete says, his voice laced with lust, “that they’ll see this part of you.” He runs his hand along Patrick’s bulge. Patrick’s hips buck, and he moans.</p><p>“No,” says Patrick breathily. “Although,” he adds thoughtfully, “that’s something to consider.”</p><p>Pete pulls back, surprised. “Wait, really?”</p><p>“No, I’m joking.” Patrick grins. “This part of the show is exclusive, baby.”</p><p>Pete laughs and presses his lips to Patrick’s, but then he pulls back again and says, hesitantly, “You know I’d be totally supportive of that, though. I mean, if that’s what you decide you want to do.”</p><p>“Pete, I appreciate that, but I’m not — let’s just —” Patrick huffs impatiently. “Can you take my pants off, please?”</p><p>Pete nods vigorously. He kisses Patrick again and moves his hands down to Patrick’s belt. Patrick leans back a little and lifts his hips, his heavy-lidded eyes on Pete’s as Pete pulls down Patrick’s jeans and briefs. He wraps his hand around Patrick’s cock, pressing his thumb into the slit to spread Patrick’s precome along his shaft, and drawing a deep and illegally sensual moan from Patrick’s lips. Pete pumps him slowly and listens to his hitching breaths, watching in awe as he moves slightly, thrusting up into Pete’s hand. It never gets old, seeing his boyfriend unraveled like this. No matter how they present themselves to the public, this won’t change. Pete can’t push away the feeling that they have a long road ahead of them, but at least the chemistry is still there, and the love is still there, and he has faith that it will carry them through.</p><p>Pete wants to see more of Patrick, all of him, every crease and freckle that are his to savor, so he tugs on Patrick’s shirt until he’s lifting it over his head. He presses his lips to Patrick’s chest, nosing the hair gathered in his sternum, and slides his hands up Patrick’s sides to thumb his nipples. Patrick rocks his hips forward, moaning and grinding against Pete.</p><p>Pete wraps his arms around Patrick’s middle and pulls him down off the counter. He carries him to the kitchen table, Patrick’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist, and lays him down carefully on his back before climbing on top of him. Patrick’s hands work quickly to undo Pete’s jeans, and Pete helps him pull them off.</p><p>“Lube,” Patrick demands, his eyes dark.</p><p>“Fuck,” says Pete. “Yes. Okay. Uh, hang on. Stay right there.”</p><p>Pete scrambles off the table and, like his life depends on it, runs to their bedroom. He pulls his sweater and shirt over his head on the way, almost trips over the edge of the bed, and then rummages through the side table for lube, before running back to the kitchen like Patrick is a magnet and Pete's cock is pure iron.</p><p>He stops in the doorway for a minute to take in Patrick lying on the kitchen table with his legs sprawled out, his hard dick twitching against his belly, and his chest rising and falling. No one else gets to see him like this. This is for Pete — exclusive, VIP — and Pete oh-so-badly wants to be on top of him, so he scrambles back to the table.</p><p>“I can’t believe we’re gonna have sex on the kitchen table,” Pete says as he climbs back on top of Patrick, feeling giddy and almost painfully turned on. “Why haven’t we done this yet?”</p><p>Patrick laughs and grabs Pete’s face in both hands. “You know you make everything ten times more fun?”</p><p>Pete smiles and says, “It’s ‘cause I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too,” Patrick says, and he lifts his shoulders off the table to kiss Pete. They stay like that for a while, kissing and grinding against each other, until Pete can’t hold out any longer. He pops open the lube and reaches down, feeling Patrick gasp and shudder underneath him when he rubs his hole with his index finger. Patrick pulls his legs back, giving Pete more access, and Pete works him open slowly, until Patrick is babbling incoherent pleas that mostly involve the word “fuck.”</p><p>Pete slicks himself up and aligns his cock with Patrick’s entrance. The table is murder on his knees, but the pleasure counteracts the pain as he pushes all the way into Patrick’s stretched-open ass. “You okay?” he asks.</p><p>“My shoulder blades are kind of killing,” Patrick says, grunting and lifting his shoulders slightly to adjust, “but it’s worth it.”</p><p>Pete nods. “It’s hot, right?”</p><p>“Very hot,” Patrick breathes. His eyes rake over Pete’s body, and Pete grins.</p><p>He adjusts so that he’s sitting back, removing some of the pressure on his knees and, hopefully, Patrick’s shoulders, and he grabs Patrick’s thighs for purchase. Then he fucks him, watching his cock bounce against his stomach, until he squeezes his eyes shut and comes so hard that he feels like he’s falling through the table. </p><p>When he comes back down from his orgasm, he sees Patrick stroking himself. He wraps a hand around Patrick’s, and together, they stroke him until he comes with a shout and his back arching.</p><p>Pete pulls out of Patrick and pushes his thighs back slightly to watch his cum leak out of Patrick onto the table. </p><p>“Oh, damn,” Pete laughs. “That’s where we eat.”</p><p>“You are <em> so </em>disgusting,” Patrick groans. “Can you just shut up and clean me up?”</p><p>Pete laughs as he climbs off the table, legs stiff and achy, and keeps laughing all the way to the laundry room.</p>
<hr/><p>Later, they’re sitting on the living-room couch, Patrick’s legs stretched over Pete’s lap as he lazily strums his guitar. Pete is looking over his notes for an article he’s writing on the CTA.</p><p>Patrick sets his guitar down and crawls closer to Pete, snuggling against his side. Pete abandons his notes for now, more interested in holding Patrick. He puts his arm around him and pulls him close.</p><p>“Have you decided what your next song is?” Patrick asks.</p><p>“For the blog?”</p><p>“Mm-hmm. Anti-love song?”</p><p>“I’m thinking ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right.’”</p><p>“Ooh, that’s a good one.”</p><p>They sit in silence for a bit, Pete stroking Patrick’s arm with his thumb. He’s tired and sated, eyes closed and zoning out, when Patrick says, “You can keep doing your regular Valentine’s songs, too, if you want.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah. The readers went crazy over it.”</p><p>“Oh, I see. <em> The readers.” </em></p><p>“Yep. They like that mushy stuff.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>It’s quiet long enough that Pete finally turns on the TV. He flips through the channels, trying to find something to watch, and adjusts his body when he feels Patrick moving, until they’re half-lying down and Patrick’s head is on Pete’s chest.</p><p>He feels Patrick sigh against him and then hears him say, quietly, “I go a little crazy over it, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Happy Valentine's Day! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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